Love Without Words

By Brad Olson, Psy.D.,M.Div.

Sarah couldn’t wait to move away to college, and when she did, she moved far away. It was her relationship with her father she was running from. It’s not that he was a bad guy, he just never understood her. She always felt more heard and understood by her mom- they could talk.

The 12 hour drive from college to her parent’s home was long, but worth it. She needed the break from her studies and after all, they lived in Florida, and it was Spring Break. She managed to stay awake on the long drive by imagining the peace and quiet soon to come…. The kind of peace and quiet she found every time she slept on the boat. It was what she loved the most about her time at home. It was there that she forgot about the demands of her studies. She forgot about the painful breakup with Eric. She slept soundly without the sudden slamming of a door or the loud chatter and giggles of other girls coming in at 2 a.m. All she could hear was the sound of the water gently lapping up against the side of the boat as it slowly rocked her to sleep. This is what kept her awake as she drove. This is why she returned to the home of her father at Spring Break.

There was another reason why she chose home as her Spring Break get-a-way. She was tired of the way her father had treated her for years… ignoring her. He never talked to her. He never asked her how she was doing. He never cared about her school, her friends, her hopes, her dreams. He never cared about her.

But this time, it was going to be different. She was determined to talk to her father and have him actually respond. She wanted to tell him how she felt. She was tired of his distance and wanted to know why he didn’t care about her, or why he didn’t even like her.

Dinner was wonderful as usual. Mom always knew how to cook. During dinner, her mom and her chatted about everything from her college world to the neighborhood gossip. Her father sat quietly, occasionally responding to questions with his typical one word answers. This frustrated Sarah and only highlighted her pain and ignited her anger.

As dinner ended, her father bent over and kissed her mother on the cheek and thanked her for the great meal she prepared, and excused himself. He walked into the den and promptly sat down on his overstuffed recliner like he did every night, turned on “Wheel of Fortune” and picked up the paper. Sarah thought “this is enough”. She was going to talk to her father. She took a deep breath and walked into the den, sat down on the chair at the other side of the end table from him. The silence felt like it lasted forever, but it was only a minute or two. Sarah asked her father how he was doing? He mumbled a short response. Then she told him what she thought her grades would be for the semester, trying to engage his interest. She could barely hear his response from behind the paper and over the sound of the audience applauding as the first puzzle was solved.

Sarah felt all her emotions gather at her mouth, ready to spew out onto her father. She had enough. She stood up and grabbed the paper from his hands. “Why won’t you talk to me!?, she shouted. He looked at her in stunned silence as she stormed out of the den and ran upstairs to her bedroom. The door slammed behind her as she collapsed on the bed and began sobbing. Her tears were mixed with hurt and anger. All she wanted was for her father to care just a little.

There was a small knock on the door and her mother walked into her room. She sat on the bed, leaning up against the headboard. After a few moments, Sarah wiped some tears and put her head on her mother’s lap. Her mother gently stroked her hair, offering Sarah some tissue until she calmed down a bit. Sarah spoke, “He gets me so mad. He just lives in his own world and doesn’t care about anyone else. I mean, why did he even bother having any children? It’s not like he wanted them. It’s not like he likes them. It’s not like he likes me. Does he even love me?” she snarled.

Her mother’s neck straightened up as she sat up on the bed and spoke in a clear and firm tone, like she was giving her daughter directions that would save her life one day. “Sarah, stop it. Sit up and look at me and listen. Your father cares. In fact, he loves you dearly.”

“How can you say that?” “When is the last time you heard him say that? When is the last time he sat down and talked with me? When has he spent time with me?”

Her mother replied, “Sarah, you know that boat of his? He goes out on that boat every day. He loves that boat. He sails out on the water for hours. Like clockwork after lunch, he calls the dogs and they climb onto that boat, just the three of them. He gave up asking me to join him, or any of his friends. None of us will go near that boat. I find it boring and besides, those dogs are not house-broken on the boat. They pee on the ropes, they leave their sloppy half-chewed bones on the seats, and dog hair is everywhere. In the heat of the day, the thing stinks. We tell him to clean it up more often and we might join him on his daily sail. But, he is fine with it the way it is.”

“Your father asks me when you are coming to town regularly. He marks it on his calendar… it’s about the only thing he marks on his calendar. About a week before you arrive, he takes that boat out of the water and cleans it, from top to bottom. He scrubs, washes, and disinfects everything. The bedding is washed, the floor is scrubbed, the windows cleaned, the ropes are replaced with new rope. He cleans the hull inside and out, airs out the storage spaces and cupboards. Sometimes, he even buys all new cushions and seat pads. He makes sure there is not one spot of mold, mildew, or dirt anywhere on that boat. He does not go out on his daily sail and no one is allowed on that boat once it is cleaned. No one can even step onto the boat, because he knows his daughter is coming home… and she loves to sleep on his boat at night.” Her mother paused, then gently placed a hand on each side of her face and looked into her eyes. She spoke softly, “There is more than one way to say I love you and many ways to say I care. Now, you tell me… does your father love you?”

With that, her mother got up and left the room. Sarah sat in silence as a different kind of tear welled up in her eye.

(Thank you “Sarah” for telling me your story)

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